A Mirror Strangely Twisted
by The Readers Muse
Summary: What if we had been shown what had occurred on the Enterprise with the Mirror universe crew members from the episode: "Mirror Mirror"? What happened between Spock and the Mirror Doctor McCoy? And more interestingly, what happened after the credits rolled?
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I don't not own Star Trek or any of its characters. Do you THINK I would be here if I did?! So I don't in any way shape or form own any of the plot or the characters. They belong to whoever owns 'em. I just took the general idea for a test jaunt. So, don't sue me...not that it would be beneficial, as I am a poor university student, yadda yadda yadda.**_

**Authors Note #1:** This ficlet is a story building off the episode: "Mirror, Mirror" from the original series, season two. I got the idea as to how Spock and the Mirror McCoy might have reacted to one another from the episode itself. I felt that the small scene from the episode was much too brief of a snippet on the Mirror characters on the U.S.S Enterprise that it was more like a teaser! (I mean...am I the only one that was utterly fascinated with how the mirror crew actually behaved on the ship before being discovered and thrown in the brig?) Therefore I fabricated what I thought could have gone on in the meantime. It was one of those rabid plot bunnies that knaw on your brain until you finally give in and write the darn thing.

**Authors Note #2:** Unlike in a Zoo, please feel free to feed the author! Your reviews not only give me a warm fuzzy feeling inside, but they also help me improve myself. So yes, please read and review.

**A Mirror Strangely Twisted**

_**Chapter One - "**__**I recall drivin' home, this ain't gonna hit me till God knows when,  
You know I feel it in my bones and I wear it on my skin"**_

From the very first moment the landing party rematerialized on the transporter pad he had sensed something was amiss. The thought itself was so utterly illogical that he knew if he ever mentioned it to the Doctor; he would never hear the end of it. However, despite how illogical it was, how it went against nearly every mental teaching he and his kind held dear, this _feeling_...this sense of wrongness refused to pass, despite even the strength of his rigid disciplines. Instead it battered at him, persistently ramming at his mental barriers, absolutely refusing to be suppressed while at the same time remaining entirely vague as to its purpose.

Perhaps he had finally developed that strange second sense that the Doctor and the Captain always joked about, when they claimed to be able to sense when something wasn't quite right. However, he doubted such a prognosis was neither logical...nor _encouraging_, and forced himself to expel the thought from his mind as he watched the Transporter Chief work the controls, devoting himself solely to the task at hand.

However, this thought rose up again, seeping underneath his emotional barriers like mist from the ground as the landing party slowly appeared, the shimmering beam creating a momentary golden glow throughout the room as the transportation process ended and they began to move forward. Through his peripheral vision he watched as they halted only a few steps off the transporter pad, struck absolutely dumbfounded as they looked about them..turning towards each other as he only half-listened to Lieutenant Kyle's explanation for the rough beam up.

As Doctor McCoy would likely say in such a situation, "_Something definitely didn't smell right." _And despite everything, he was forced to momentarily wonder if the irritable surgeon simply enjoyed creating strange Earth euphemisms solely in the hopes of mentally besting him...

They all wore expressions he had never seen his fellow officers wear, there was now a hardness...a loathingly disgusted expression that seemed to permanently twist their features...A look that only further hardened when nearly as one their hands had dropped to their waists, their grasping fingers clutching strangely at empty air, as if they had expected something else to be there. '_Most strange..'_ He noted as he analyzed their reactions attempting to find the meaning to their abnormal behaviour.

It was Lieutenant Uhura who moved first, stumbling forward as if suddenly finding herself off-balance, her hands pulling at the collar of her uniform dress, mouth opening to say something as her hand leapt to the Captains shoulder. But her barely expressed exclamation died prematurely on her lips, her hand retracting from the Captain's shoulder as if burned when his hand snapped up and formed a brutal fist, a harsh sneer marring his lips...the gesture violently demanding silence and unquestioning obedience.

The Captain himself seemed to be feverishly calculating the situation, his eyes snapping from the walls, to the others in the room, and even to himself, his fingers pulling at his uniform shirt as his gaze lingered strangely on his first officers face.

But before he could ask Jim about this odd behaviour, Lieutenant Kyle distracted his attention once again, remarking on the strange phenomena that had affected the beam up, causing the transporter beam to shift momentarily during the rematerialization process.

By the time he had ordered a complete system check on the transporters, the Captain had turned swiftly to the others, speaking only a few clipped sentences, the words too low for him to hear as they all nodded in silent agreement. They were halfway to the door before he joined them, his presence bringing them to a sudden halt as he stationed himself at his accustomed place at the Captain's left side.

"Can I help you Mr. Spock?" The Captain spat bitingly, his eyes sweeping up and down his figure roughly as if considering him, his hand coming up to halt the others who had come up behind him. Raising an eyebrow he too stopped, searching the Captain's unaccustomedly hard features, seeking answers for this new and disturbing behaviour before he finally answered. "The department reports Captain. There was some minor damage to ships systems during the ion storm. If you will permit me?" He questioned, his eyes straying for a moment to inspect the others equally hard facial expressions, finding nothing encouraging in their stony features, nor in the glacial glint that resided in their eyes. He was missing something, this much he knew... It was something elusive, something impossible. '_What is going on here?'_

"Of course.... Well? Get on with it then!" The man replied condescendingly, his entire demeanour expressing impatience and barely concealed distrust as his hand wildly gestured for him to continue. His remaining eyebrow mirrored the arch of the other, but he refrained from commenting..perhaps they were ill..or still disoriented from the difficult beam up...the ionic interference **had** been severe after all.

"Mr. Scott, Doctor, there are minor repairs and injuries requiring your attention in your respected areas, I suggest you tend to them. Lieutenant Uhura, please inform Starfleet Command of the results of the latest progress in procuring a trade agreement with the Halkan Council. Full status reports by 1200 if you please." He reported stoically, mildly surprised when they looked first to the Captain for an affirming nod before they all nodded in agreement.

The senior Engineer was the first to depart; an unaccustomedly unpleasant expression curling the Scottish mans usually pleasant face as he pushed past them. Eying Mr. Kyle with a oddly calculating expression before he crossed the room, pausing only once at the doors where he stooped to inspect the control panel, looking at it as if he had never seen it before, strangely giving himself a small satisfied nod as he trailed a hand along the bulkhead as the doors slid closed behind them. At another nod from the Captain Uhura fled as well, her eyes darting about the area around her, as if on the alert for some sort of attack only she could anticipate, still pulling oddly at the collar of her uniform as the doors swished closed behind her.

The Doctor however remained, a slight smile gracing his features. However the expression held none of its accustomed warmth, instead he seemed entirely unconcerned at his impertinence, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, his hands posed behind his back, looking for all the world as if he was enjoying his own private joke at their expense. But regardless of these strange things more then anything so far, Spock found that the warped mockery of the Doctor's true smile disturbed him far more then he'd ever care to admit.

But again before he could comment, the Captain soundly cut him off. "Mr. Spock, I want those transporter circuits checked. Take the whole damn thing apart if you have to. But I want answers! I want an explanation by the end of the hour and not a minute later! And I order you to see to this _personally_. Those are my orders." He demanded abruptly before leaving with a flourish, looking both left and right before he started down the hall, leaving only Doctor McCoy, the shell-shocked transporter chief, and himself alone in the room.

Turning, he addressed the open-mouthed lieutenant. "Mr. Kyle, I suggest you begin the analysis immediately, I will join you shortly." He replied, waiting till the flummoxed man nodded and left the room to obtain the proper tools.

Determined to get some answers he turned back to the transporter, intent on questioning the Georgian surgeon when realized that Doctor had moved to stand directly beside him, looking pointedly up at him. He had never even heard the doctor move. "Doctor, did something occur on the planet? Where is your medical tricorder?" He asked sternly, his expression a stony mask to cover his confusion at the Doctor's closeness and a growing sense of disquiet about the entire situation.

But the Doctor refused to reply, his eyes merely flickering to the door and then back to him again as he fingered his medical pouch, almost caressing the medical hypo sprays inside as he wordlessly inspected his face. After a long moment he smirked and shook his head, as if having suddenly come to some sort of inner deduction, his face a carefully constructed canvas that betrayed none of his thoughts...so very different from the expressive and open-faced Doctor that had dematerialized from that very same pad only a few short hours ago.

Finally, the Doctor nodded, inclining his head towards him as he made to move, and with one smooth movement he turned on his heel and brushed boldly past him. But as he did so, his hand came up, deliberately ghosting across the expanse of his chest as he past, halting only once at the door as it hissed open at his approach, looking back at him with an openly heated expression before the hard smirk returned and the doors closed, masking him from view.

The entire action nearly sent him reeling as his unprepared shields were suddenly bombarded by the jumbled and confused images that made up the Doctor's thoughts. It was then that he realized just how fully wrong the situation was. For what he saw there had been darkness, a mind that dwelled in a half-shielded gloom, tempered with razor-sharp edges of violence and hate...a lifetime of hardness was what he found in the Doctors mind.

And in that split-second of contact he felt what the doctor felt, he saw what the doctor saw...he knew what the doctor knew...and in that touch, however brief, he felt the wrongness of it all...This was not _**his McCoy!**_ None of them were!

_**A/N: Well it is up to you guys, do you think this merits continuing? Review and let me know!**_

_**A/N: My chapter title is lyrics from Thriving Ivory's song: "Twilight". The band is awesome, check them out on youtube or what not!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I don't not own Star Trek or any of its characters. Do you THINK I would be here if I did?! So I don't in any way shape or form own any of the plot or the characters. They belong to whoever owns 'em. I just took the general idea for a test jaunt. So, don't sue me...not that it would be beneficial, as I am a poor university student, yadda yadda yadda.**_

**Authors Note #1:** Unlike in a Zoo, please feel free to feed the author! Your reviews not only give me a warm fuzzy feeling inside, but they also help me improve myself. So yes, please read and review.

**A Mirror Strangely Twisted**

_**Chapter Two – "Singin' I could be yours if you would be mine  
C'mon grow old with me and surely you will see.."**_

By the time he had recovered from McCoy's inadvertent mental touch and had made it to the hallway, the Doctor, and indeed the entire landing party had vanished, leaving the corridor empty save for the occasionally passing crewman. _A human would have deemed it eerie, and if he hadn't been the logical, rational Vulcan that he was, he might have even thought they had gone as far as having finished...melding into the ship as if they were a part of it. __**But they weren't.**__ That man was not his Captain. Those doppelgangers were not their crew. And __**he **__was certainly __**not **__Doctor Leonard McCoy._

And amidst his chaotic state of mind, still reeling from the Doctors unmistakable caress and the images he had so briefly seen in the Doctors mind, he only vaguely realized that this time...his human instincts may have prevailed above his Vulcan ones, alerting him to a danger that such a logical and analytical mind would be largely deaf too. _Fascinating..._

It hadn't taken long to discover what had occurred, that the ionic interference from the interstellar storm had somehow switched their true crewmembers with their mirror universe counterparts, the entire experience actually confirming the long debated theory of the existence of alternate realities. However he did not had the time to dwell on the full significance of this discovery until much later, being too caught up in first capturing the undeniably brutal counterparts, and then attempting to discover just how to return them to their own universe and regain the return of their own Captain and crew as well.

Lieutenant Uhura had been captured first, however indeed not easily. When the security guards had entered the bridge and moved in to take her into custody she had fiercely resisted. In a flash she had vaulted from her seat, her ear-piece flying from her manicured fingers as she plucked a replicated steak knife from the mess hall out from under her skirt, and when the first guard had lunged she had struck, almost taking out the mans eye as the knife slashed expertly through the air.

It was only when Lieutenant Sulu had silently moved in and grasp her arms from behind that the two men were able to seize her, the dark-skinned beauty still screaming and struggling as they half-dragged her into the lift, a small puddle of crimson droplets trailing from her seat to the turbo-lift as the injured guard tried unsuccessfully to staunch the flow as the doors swished closed behind them, effectively cutting off a string of vicious and...rather inventive curses the woman was expelling in mid-sentence.

The whole incident left the Bridge in a horrified silence, the crew stunned, standing in frozen silence until Chekov finally moved forward, stooping as he picked up the abandoned ear-piece, balancing it in the palm of his hand, staring down at it wordlessly until Spock broke the silence, and ordered them quietly back to their stations.

The Mirror Mr. Scott was apprehended next, pulled soundly out of an access tube in Main Engineering where he had been sabotaging the ships internal sensors. However, despite the number of men sent to collect him, he managed to knock quite a few security guards clear into unconsciousness with only his fists before he was taken down hard by a phasers stun-beam. His staff worriedly surrounding the crumpled form of their commanding officer even after they had been appraised of the situation, their loyalty to the true Montgomery Scott evident in their troubled eyes, and in their gentle touch as they grasp his unconscious form and bore him personally to the holding cells.

He appointed a full security squad to locate and contain the Mirror Captain Kirk, surmising that if the man was anything like the true Kirk and his mirror counterparts, he would not be easily taken. However, he did not accompany them; letting Sulu head the party as he himself decided to locate the Doctor. He could not accurately define why, but he desired to collect the Mirror McCoy personally...unwilling to simply delegate his capture to a security detail.

He went directly to Sickbay, half expecting to find the Doctor there, but instead he found a severely shaken Nurse Chapel tending to an unconscious Doctor M'Benga, working quickly to staunch a thickly bleeding head wound as an impressive goose egg began to form at his temple. Apparently the good Doctor had not taken kindly to the Vulcan specialists prying questions and accusations.

At his query the busy nurse had only spared him a sympathetic glance, her soft blue eyes resting briefly on the phaser at his hip before informing him the Doctor had knocked her unconscious soon after he had arrived when she had caught him rifling unconcernedly through the restricted medical files, the computer alarm blaring as he somehow entirely bypassed the security firewalls and passwords, virtually hacking into the Enterprise's main computer. It would indeed seem that the Mirror McCoy was not only a formidable opponent, but neither was he intimated by technology in the slightest. _Interesting..._

Using the Doctors console, he had the computer locate the Doctor, and was relieved to discover him in his quarters. He ordered the ship to seal the doors, effectively trapping the undoubtedly dangerous man inside. The phaser in his hand was his only companion when he reached the doctors room, pressing the chime he waited patiently until the man's soft Georgian accent replied, speaking the command that allowed him entrance.

But when the door slid open, he had stopped dead, unable to halt the stunned expression from flitting across his face at the sight before him. The doctor had his back to him, his shirt raised as he completed the act of removing it, tossing it carelessly aside as he turned his head to observe his visitor, appearing not the slightest bit fazed as he wiped his blood smudged hands on the discarded shirt, the material already stained a sinister crimson hue from the altercation in Sickbay.

But it was not the stain that had nearly stopped his heart, that widened his eyes and momentarily halted his breath....it was the elaborate tattoo that coloured the back of the Doctor's right shoulder blade, a crimson and black shade that made up an intricately beautiful rune that was intertwined with two family crests..

After a few moments the man turned until he fully faced him, his posture proud and confident. He seemed entirely unperturbed at his half-naked appearance, and indeed looked disturbingly at ease with the situation as he observed the Vulcan across from him, his gaze taking in the phaser at his side with a quick flick of his steel blue eyes before returning his attention back to Spock's face. "So, you are here to take me in then." He drawled matter of factly, his accent much thicker then the true McCoy's had ever been, a twisted sense of amusement tilting his smooth tone.

"I must say, however that I think **my** Spock would have figured it all out much quicker then you did." He replied dryly, sitting down at the desk, and bringing his feet up to rest cross-legged across the surface, sending McCoy's data disks and knick-knacks flying off the desk in one swift movement, entirely ignoring the noisy crashes that followed as he eyed Spock closely, the challenge in his voice made doubly apparent in the look that rested in the Doctors hard eyes.

Moving forward a few steps, he dropped his hand to the phaser at his side, the movement calculated to display his tactical advantage. But the surgeon did not appear even remotely intimidated; in fact the smaller man actually threw back his head and laughed. It was an empty, hollow sound that echoed throughout the room as he laced his fingers together, letting them rest unconcernedly about his toned waist as he inspected the man opposite him.

"Your show of force is a wasted endeavour Mister Spock." He replied coldly, rocking back slightly in his chair with a contented stretch as he spoke. "Do you really think that you would have found me if I hadn't wanted to be found?" He questioned sternly, his brow arching considerably as his awaited a reply.

"I do." Spock replied simply, his mind racing as he took in the fully implications of what he had just seen. "Well, think again Mr. Vulcan. For what I say is the cold, hard truth. I am a doctor yes, arguably the best doctor in the Empire, but I am also many, many other things as well." He replied coldly, the ruthlessness in his tone seemingly to belay the utter truthfulness of his words. And at that moment, as Spock looked upon that hard face, his eyes trailing down the Doctors lithely muscled chest, taking in the both faint and still-healing scars of numerous battles and near-death attacks, a grim tapestry of a hard fought life, he realized that somehow, despite the mans questionable countenance that he did not doubt him in the slightest. _This man was dangerous.._

"This universe is soft, weak." The man commented lightly, as if merely discussing something as inconsequential as the weather or his next meal. "A real man could make quite the conquest of this place." He stated with a decisive nod, pausing for a moment as he eyes traveled pointedly up and down the Vulcan's form before continuing.

"However, I, like your counterpart have no desire for conquering and command...And because of that, **I awaited** your arrival, I **allowed** you to find me, because to put it simply, I only wish to return to my universe....and to my Spock. I could no more survive here then your McCoy could in mine...That is if he is not dead already." He finished unconcernedly, his harsh tone softening only slightly as he met the mans eyes.

"I see." Spock began, carefully thinking out his next words as he watched the man before him, taking in every single detail of the man, analyzing...comparing. "I desire answers." He spoke simply, deciding that in this case, the direct approach was the most logical. The Mirror McCoy's humourless grin only widened.

"Don't you want to cast me into jail with the rest of my..._comrades_?" He asked, the sarcasm evident in his tone as he swung the chair back and forth idly before he looked consideringly up at him. "Not as of yet." Spock replied, moving another decisive step forward until he was only inches away from the front of the desk, his hand coming up to gesture at the doctors shoulder, silently inviting a discussion about the Doctor's rather unique tattoo.

"Ah. I see you noticed my prized piece of artwork." The doctor drawled dramatically, false surprise tingeing his words as he unfolded himself from the chair and stood again. He leaned forward so that his hands lay flat; braced against the surface of the desk, leaving the desk as the only barrier between them, as the pinkie ring he wore glinted harshly in the dim overhead lights

"I take it that in this universe, we are not bonded." He stated plainly, his bright blue eyes searching Spock's fathomless dark ones, his shallow smile widening when Spock stiffened, the hand that hung at his side clenching slightly in surprise.

"No. We are not." He replied stonily, taking a slight step backwards as the man's scent met his keen nostrils, disturbing him despite himself as some strange part of him rebelled at the difference in the smell, something so very different from the Doctors usually pleasant, masculine scent. This McCoy smelled nearly metallic.. it was a sharp and overpowering scent, mixed in with the copperish tang human blood... and the cloying smell of sweat and death.

"I guessed as much.." The Doctor commented with a strange smile. "How..interesting." He mused, turning so the Vulcan could clearly see the intricate design. It had been as he had suspected, it was the rune and crest of his clan, embracing the crest of what could only be that of McCoy's family.

The workmanship was undeniably superior, but it was the rune that outlined both the crests, melding them both together that tugged at the farthest reaches of Spock's instinctual memory. It spoke of possession, and the complete and utter connection that had existed between mates in the barbaric times of his ancient ancestors. An unbreakable bond, the mark of a 'hearts-mate', the highest and strongest of all bondings.

"You have a matching one." The doctor remarked, casting a fond eye down at the blood-red runes. "Or, at least he does." He amended after a moment, eyeing Spock's blue-clad shoulder for a moment before picking up the clean uniform shirt at his side and sliding it on confidently, shaking it out over his wrists as he got comfortable.

"How?" Spock asked roughly, the other question of 'why' dieing unspoken on his tongue, but he was certain that the man had noticed anyway. "We killed T'Pring together." The southern man replied with relish.

"Stonn as well for his insolence. I slit his green-blooded throat and bled him dry." He cracked with a chuckle. "Your father of course sent about a half a dozen assassins after me, but we dealt with them together. Interestingly however, T'Pau eventually stopped him. She is actually surprisingly fond of me for some reason." He remarked with a private grin. "Or as fond as that uptight Vulcan bitch can get." He said smoothly, his grin only widening when Spock's mouth twitched, quelling the anger that had rose surprisingly quickly to the surface at the bold insult to his clan matriarch.

"It was a year ago since it happened. And since you are no doubt to much of a prude to ask, it was he who chose me. Of course, I wanted him as well. But it was he who made the first move. It took him a while, but he eventually caught on..." He elaborated richly, seeming to relish in Spock's growing discomfort. "What?" He continued mockingly. "Don't tell me the thought has never crossed you mind?" He questioned mirthfully, grinning in triumph when the Vulcan noticeably shifted.

"Aha! I thought so. Doesn't it just kill you? Knowing that despite all your control...and all your damned logic, that you still desire him? Want him...yearn for him even?" He taunted lightly, jabbing a finger abruptly into the Vulcan's chest as he punctuated the argument. "Oh I'll bet you even argue as much with him, as I did, and still do with mine. Believe me, it isn't very subtle flirtation to everyone else. Think about that next time you two go at it again on the Bridge." He finished with a satisfied sneer, his arms folded across his chest, literally rocking back and forth on his heels in his confidence.

Outwardly, Spock was as stoic and stony faced as he had ever been, his posture stiff and poker straight, but inside he was reeling. His mind refused to quiet, speeding through every conversation he and the true McCoy had ever had, their every argument and shared look...even down to the most casual of touches.

He had not realized before this moment, just how often they did touch...On and on the memories replayed, with the truth of the man's words weighing him down under the refutable logic of the realization. It was ironic how such...emotion...such feeling could turn into such a logical deduction. And for a moment he was forced to wonder if he would ever fully understand the strange complexities of the human mind.

The man had him entirely and totally off balance. He felt as if he were drowning, sinking under the force of the mans dominance, lost in the teeming swell of emotions that threatened to irrupt within him. Disgust, anger, confusion, even desire all stirred within him. But somehow, the knowledge that came in knowing that it was all true did little to sooth him.

"Enough to make your pointy-eared Vulcan brain spin isn't it?" The Doctor commented softly, his gentle tone enough to make the Vulcan raise a curious and wary eyebrow. "Indeed." He commented finally, his hand coming up to unlatch the phaser from his hip, palming the powerful weapon in his hand as he met the Doctors gaze. But the man hardly spared it a glance, focusing instead on his face. "We are surprisingly good for each other. And you know...I might not know anything about this universe or him..." He began with a gesture about the room, indicating to the Doctors scattered belongings.

"But I would bet my best boots that you and him would be good together too." The man commented suddenly, raising a hand to rake his fingers through his light brown hair, his features suddenly turning tired for the first time since he had arrived, a sharp pain reflecting in his ice-blue eyes.

"Its..strange.. to be away from him, but not...to have you here instead of him. Our bond is surprisingly strong, much stronger then anything your late mother and Sarek ever had." He commented lightly, replying to the questioning look he saw in Spock's eyes. Spock was about to comment on this when the Doctors desk-side communicator chirped and Sulu's concerned voice echoed in the silent room. "Lieutenant Sulu to Commander Spock. Mr. Spock, come in please."

Leaning over the desk, he deliberately met eyes with the doctor before he pressed the button to answer. "Spock here Mr. Sulu. I will be escorting the Doctor to the confinement block presently. Spock out." He affirmed, snapping the signal off with a loud click.

"Time to hit the old dusty trail eh Spock?" The doctor commented unhurriedly, his hands folded across his chest once more, but with no confrontation evident in his tone. "Yes. It is time." He responded in affirmation, raising his phaser to chest level as the Doctor strode unhurriedly out from around the table, snorting at the raised weapon in distain.

"Would you grant me one question in return?" The man asked finally, his eyes as masked as they had been in the transporter room as he came to stand directly in front of the Vulcan, his hand reaching out to absently caress the curve of a small stone statue that was displayed on the nearest shelf, his elegant fingers sliding down across the neck of the male figurine in a bold caress.

"That all depends on the question Doctor. I can hardly grant your request without first determining the possible risk behind agreeing to it." He responded carefully, eying the man alertly, finding it an all too familiar sight to watch the smaller mans eyes roll, his frustration evident as he pursed his lips and blew out a loud breath of air. _Too much like the Doctor..._

"Well I'd certainly not want to be held accountable if your point-eared head were to explode." He muttered with another generous roll of his eyes. "So, I'll ask you first and then you can decide whether or not to answer me after...alright?" The Doctor posed, his arms crossed at his breast as a small sneer formed on his lips. "That sounds acceptable, proceed Doctor." He responded cautiously, noticing remotely that the cool metal of the phaser in his hand had warmed, his higher body temperature warming the metallic chill of the weapon to near body temperature.

"Just tell me one thing then, if you can." The man began, another set of frown lines appearing on his tanned face before he looked down, his gaze resting on his ring for a moment, twisting it on his finger so that the small ruby-red stone glinted in the near light before looking up and meeting his eyes once again.

"In...in this universe did **your** McCoy have a child? Maybe from a previous marriage?" He asked softly, the question layered with so much meaning that even Spock was unable to clearly assess what the doctor could be feeling. He paused for a moment, weighing the consequences of the information before finally replying.

"Yes. A daughter named Joanna I believe." He finished, wondering about the question as he inspected the mans face, noticing as he did so, that the lightest of scars marred the skin just below his earlobe, as if someone had tried to slit his throat, but had somehow missed. "Does she live?" He asked curtly, his face remaining impassive, his gaze hard as steel, but his voice faintly cracking as he spoke. "Yes. She prospers." He replied swiftly, somehow inertly appeased to see the stress-lines that had deepened on his brow lessen slightly at his response.

"Good." He responded after a moment, his expression momentarily softening for a few short seconds, as he gave him a small nod before the emotionless wall crashed down again, masking this surprisingly vulnerable side of the Doctor from view once more, the man refusing to comment any further on the matter. _Curious..._

He pondered for a moment that if perhaps it was simply due to the circumstances in which he had grown up, the attitude and persona he eventually had to adopt in order to survive in the harsh universe he called home that had made him so hard. And he was forced to wonder in turn, how such a universe could go so terribly astray…differing so much from their own that he could hardly recognize any of the people from it, even when they were the exact physical replicas of his own people, his own friends....It seemed that this other universe was only a mirror to theirs in name, not substance.

Finally, after another long, piercing look at the older man, Spock gave him a returning nod, gesturing for him to lead them out of the room. However, the Doctor paused for a few long seconds, searching Spock's face much like he had to the Doctors only a few moments earlier. "So similar, yet so different." He muttered lightly, the soft sentence only just barely loud enough for Spock to hear before he shook his head slightly, a smirk returning once again to play across his lips as he sauntered unconcernedly through the sliding doors.

They stepped out of the Doctor's quarters together, with the Doctor walking only slightly ahead of him. The mans simple presence alone caused passing crewmen to halt in their tracks, and some to even press up against the bulkheads as they strode past. The man seemed to virtually radiate a sense of danger, of such pointed power that it seemed to nearly emanate off him in waves. This coupled with his hard expression portrayed a man so very different from their own kindly, high- spirited and respected Doctor that even Spock could understand their fear.

Their pace was swift but steady as they made their way down to the holding cells, the Doctor looking for all intents and purposes as if he were merely out for a stroll, seeming entirely unconcerned by the attention he was getting, nor at the phaser aimed steadily at his back, he even slowing once or twice to turn and send Spock an unreadable look, a grin still tugging at the corners of his lips, as if something about the entire situation amused him.

The Doctor halted their silent march at the beginning of the detention corridor, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet as he peered curiously around the corner, cocking his head slightly as he picked up the faint yells of the other mirror crewmembers. "Only two guards Mr. Spock?" He commented mockingly. "Do you really think so little of us?" He mused with a sly grin as the security guards stationed at the doors noticed their presence, one of them starting to move forward to aid Spock before he halted the man with a gesture. McCoy only grinned, secret humour still dancing wildly in his eyes as he closely studied the corridor, seeming to leave no corner or crevice unnoted.

After a moment, he turned back towards the waiting Vulcan officer, stretching out his fingers in front of him as he audibly cracked them, rolling his neck in a light stretch as he did so. "I hope you'll understand Mr. Spock that this is purely for appearances sake." He began with a surprisingly respectful nod as they continued down the corridor, halting just as they came within viewing range of the other occupants in the cell as he turned towards him again, his smirk firmly in place before he leaned in, as if about to tell him something in confidence.

"I have a reputation to uphold however." He finished with a barely audible whisper. And then, nearly faster then even Spock could register, the man pivoted on his heel, and with surprisingly powerful strength slammed his fist brutally into the mans mid-section, sending the Vulcan reeling with a following vicious upper-cut, using Spock's momentary shock and weakness to make a grab for the phaser, his movements quick, fluid, and unquestionably deadly.

It took only a few short seconds for Spock to recover, and even longer for the guards to react and race towards them. But in those few short seconds, the man pressed himself up to the Vulcan's ear in the guise of wrestling for a phaser he truly did not want.

"Send me home Spock." He whispered softly, the rolling Georgian drawl prickling his senses as the mans harsh breaths in his sensitive ear raised the very hairs on his neck just seconds before he was pulled roughly away by the two security guards, his small blue form nearly overwhelmed by the burly guards, as he struggled against them, screaming bloody murder as his companions crowded at the cells entrance their heckling howls echoing eerily through out the nearly empty hall as they rooted their Doctor on.

He could only stare as the man was thrown bodily into the cell, skidding to a stop as he dug his heels into the carpeting, his fists raised and at the ready, a murderous look that could have chilled even the hardest of hearts morphing the southern mans features until even Spock could find no trace of the man he had come to know so well, not even on this man who was his physical twin.

Scotty and Uhura surrounded him, backing him from each side, but he ignored their queries, shook off their supporting hands, for he had eyes only for Spock. That strangely amused expression ghosting across his face once more, bowing his head towards him in the slightest of nods before he turned back to his comrades and joined their confidence.

He had to force himself to turn away, to head back to the Bridge and leave him, leave them all in that small cell. And as he left, moving down the hall with his usual swift and measured pace, he felt the Doctor's piercing eyes follow him, the feeling persisting long after he had disappeared from the mans view.

_**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews guys, I am super glad you guys are enjoying the story thus far. Review and let me know if you guys are interested in another chapter!**_

_**A/N #2: My chapter title is AGAIN lyrics from Thriving Ivory's song: "Twilight". The band is awesome; check them out on you tube or what not!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: I don't not own Star Trek or any of its characters. Do you THINK I would be here if I did?! So I don't in any way shape or form own any of the plot or the characters. They belong to whoever owns 'em. I just took the general idea for a test jaunt. So, don't sue me...not that it would be beneficial, as I am a poor university student, yadda yadda yadda.**_

**Authors Note #1:** Unlike in a Zoo, please feel free to feed the author! Your reviews not only give me a warm fuzzy feeling inside, but they also help me improve myself. So yes, please read and review.

**A Mirror Strangely Twisted**

_**Chapter Three -**_ "_**Do you know, that every day's the first of the rest of your life.."**_

It was only a few blessedly short hours until **his **own...their own crewmembers rematerialized on the platform, relief nakedly expressed across their faces as they looked about them, finally finding themselves back where they belonged. And while Spock would never admit to it, for the briefest of moments, as his gaze rested on the doctor, he too felt that strangely pleasant emotion of relief and contentment. _How very human of him indeed..._

He took in the mans shaken but unfailingly pleasant expression, his eyes once again reflecting all the goodness and light spirit he had come to expect from the Doctor, the emotions still lighting up the soft blue fires of his eyes, the smile that dimpled his cheeks still pure and genuine. _'Yes ..Everything was back the way it should be. Correct, ordered, ..right.'_

But yet, even as he followed them out of the transporter room, only half-joining in with their happy chatter, he found his gaze inexplicably drawn to the doctor's back, eying the tip of his right shoulder blade, where on his counterpart had rested **his** mark...**their** mark. And for a moment, sounding out just as clear as he had heard it in McCoy's quarters not hours before, the other doctor's voice echoed in his ears..

"_**What?"**_ The man had questioned, his head cocked mockingly in a disturbingly similar gesture to his doctor, one that the real one used so often. "_**Don't tell me the thought has never crossed your mind?"**_ He hadn't been able to deny it then...He couldn't, not even to the mirror McCoy.. Because _**he had**_ thought about it...Likely more then he would ever fully admit to himself. For the Doctor, especially in the past few months had occupied a significant portion of his thoughts, disturbing his night meditation and worming past his mental shields until the man's essence was such a constant presence in his thoughts that he could no longer envision them without him. _And_ _neither did he want to._

It wasn't until the Bridge shift ended nearly an hour later that he had a moment to speak to the Doctor privately, believing it might be best to warn him about the mess the Mirror McCoy had managed to make in the short time he was were on board, and explain the state of his quarters....The excuse sounded weak, even to him, a man who could virtually 'logic' his way out of _any_ situation.

He had waited, watching the man, using his peripheral vision to study him unnoticed as he worked his console, bringing up reports on the ionic storm that he only half paid attention too, using his own authority to delegate them to Mr. Chevok, knowing without asking that the young officer would be pleased that Spock was trusting him with analyzing such important data. The young Russian was quite the competent officer after all.

He watched as the Doctor hovered around the Bridge for the rest of the shift, as if somehow wary of leaving them alone for too long. And while his presence was indeed not unusual, the fact that he actually used a console to update himself on the latest Sick bay activities instead of going down there himself to check **was** somewhat…odd. The Doctor was usually of the opinion that using a computer to do something that a man could do the 'old fashioned way' was an affront to humanity itself.

As he watched he noticed that the surgeon looked decidedly off balance, something that Spock had noticed rarely occurred for the man. Every so often he would massage his wrist, delicately easing the tanned flesh as if something pained him. But even more often he could tell that the Doctor's eyes came to rest on him, covert looks that lasted just a second too long to be simply casual, and their arguments seemed lighter then was their normal fair, quickly trailing off into silence as if the Doctor was only half paying attention. _How...strange.._ _'Just what had gone on in the Mirror universe? What was the doctor dwelling on?'_ He wondered, knowing without asked that the private man hadn't told him everything...

Finally, it was only after Jim stretched awkwardly in his seat and asked Ensign Chevok for the time that the Doctor seemed to start from his silent perusal of the console he had appropriated, a screen that Spock had noticed had remained on the same page of the medical report detailing Doctor M'Benga's recovery for over a quarter of an hour. Switching off the console he relinquished the station to a waiting yeoman, holding the chair courteously as the stunning, red haired woman sat down, a grateful, but surprisingly heated look sent his way in return. Spock could only blink...suddenly finding himself very much wanting to look up the young woman's Fleet file...

He waited till the Doctor's lift had just slid shut, timing his move down to the second as he calculated how long it would take the lift to return and the moment it did, he signalled for one of his staff to take over his station and he too stepped into the lift, the doors closing just as Jim turned around wearily in his chair, his eyes widening for a moment, before his eyebrows raised in question. But Spock only gave him a respectful nod, far too busy to muse on the possibility that the Captain knew exactly what he was up too. _The possibility of that was...slim._

Shaking his head, he strode off the lift the moment the doors slid open, knowing that since the Doctor was a creature of well-established habits, he would likely be heading for his evening meal in the Mess Hall at this time. The Doctor had to be one of the only humans he knew that consumed over three normal meals on a daily basis, often having a second dinner, something he labelled an "evening snack" before retiring to his quarters after shift. A result of his high rate of metabolism, or so the Doctor remarked, something that Jim often referred to with more then a tinge of jealousy.

He had calculated correctly he realized when he entered the Mess hall, immediately spotting the Doctor in the far left corner, his back to the door as he sat alone in the nearly empty room. '_Most strange..' _He pondered as he ordered a Vulcan herbal tea and a large plate of fruits before making his way to the Doctor's lonely corner. The Doctor rarely chose to sit alone, often taking great pleasure at plunking his tray down right in the thick of things, no matter how noisy or crowded a table might be.

"May I join you?" He asked quietly, the unexpected nature of his arrival causing the Doctor to jump in his seat, his elbow nearly upsetting his own half-full cup of tea as his arm jerked in surprise.

"Holy hell! What are you trying to do Spock!? Give me a heart attack!?" He exclaimed, his hand pressing into his breast momentarily as he turned to face Spock, a scowl fixed across his features, however Spock could tell that for once, his heart was truly not in it. Without waiting for an invitation, Spock sat, placing his meal tray across from the Doctors as he eyed the mans hardly-touched meal.

"Are you not hungry?" He questioned lightly, for some reason feeling the need to engage the unaccustomedly quiet man in conversation. _Perhaps humans were wearing off on him after all. _The man simply looked up at him, his face going blank for a moment before he gave Spock a small smile, stabbing at a bit of whipped potato swimming in gravy with little enthusiasm.

"Well, I was. By all rights I should be. We didn't want to risk eating anything over there in case it was poisoned. With that place I wouldn't have put it past them to slip in something that didn't show up on our scanners." He responded as he looked back down at his barely touched meal, the small portion of vegetables spread in a thin layer across the plate, half-drowned under a moat of gravy that had spilled from the small hollowed out mountain of potatoes, nearly covering the small grilled pork chop in the center that hadn't been touched at all.

Repressing a twitch of his nostrils as his keen sense of smell picked up the scent of cooked meat; he nodded, accepting the explanation and beginning on his own plate, a mix of both Terran and Vulcan fruits. A few moments later he realized that the Doctor was watching him closely, his meal entirely abandoned as his eyes followed his every movement, watching as he delicately selected his next fruit, capturing it on the tines of his fork before consuming it. After a few long minutes of his, he looked up, catching the mans gaze in his own. Effectively caught the Georgian man held his gaze with his own heated, and equally as unreadable look before finally looking down at his own plate, a guilty flush unexplainably coloring his neck, causing the man to clear his throat loudly in the near silence.

"I suppose y'all had your hands full with our counterparts while we were figuring out a way back eh?" He finally spoke, as if uncomfortable with the lull in the conversation. "Indeed." He replied finally.

"They were formable opponents." He stated, ignoring a light twinge in his jaw from where the mirror Doctor had struck him. _Formiable..and well trained in the martial arts if I am not mistaken.'_ He thought silently, his jaw twanging again as if in affirmation.

Spock was caught off guard when the Doctor sprung forward, his eyes fixed on some spot on his face as the Doctor's hand came up from his lap to touch Spock's cheek, his touch unexpected, but gentle as his slightly calloused fingers ran the length of his cheek, smoothing around the offending area..

"Is that a bruise Spock?" He asked curiously, eyeing some unknown point around his sore jaw. As the hand continued it's probing caress, he was surprised to note he was having distinct difficultly maintaining his passive demeanour, with the Doctors touch proving to be a considerable distraction, however...curiously not an unpleasant one.

Leonard's touch was like the rare pleasure of a cool breeze in the searing desert of the Vulcan Forge, skimming across his face with a refreshing burst of coolness, like a balm for his searing skin. And while his mental shields were in place, the Doctors essence still hummed gently at the very edges of his consciousness, a warm and pleasurable sensation accompanying the dulled mind-touch as the Doctors fingers travelled the expanse of his face. _Lingering on it..._

"Since I haven't had the time to inspect it, I can only assume it is, the area is relatively sensitive." Spock responded, his voice unconcerned as he mentally berated himself for not looking into the matter after the initial incident, it appeared that the Mirror Doctor had injured him far more then he had originally assumed.

"_Relatively sensitive?!_" The smaller man snorted, still eying the spot as he slowly retracted his hand, looking momentarily surprised at his own boldness before he attempted to cover his embarrassment by taking a quick sip of tea.

"It looks like you went twelve rounds with a Gorn and lost! That's going to look **nasty** in the morning." He finished, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he cocked his head from side to side, as if inspecting the throbbing bruise from all angles.

"What did you do?' 'Bob' when you should have 'weaved'? Got your pointy-eared head in the way of that other Jim's fist?" He commented mirthfully, his humour seeming momentarily restored as he focused on the injury, rising from his seat again as he ran his medical scanner over Spock's face.

"This is hardly necessary Doctor; it is merely skin discoloration and tissue damage." Spock stated, his eyes following the weaving medical scanner as it whipped back and forth in the air, the Doctor's lips pursed as he eyed the read outs. "You'd hardly be singing the same tune if your jaw turned out to be dislocated, now wouldn't you?" He shot back with a smirk.

"Actually Doctor..." He responded, knowing exactly how to match the Doctors jibe. "It was _your_ counterparts 'fist' that made contact with my face. In fact, he didn't give me a chance to neither 'bob' nor ...'weave', as you so eloquently described it." He countered, raising his eyebrow at the exact same time McCoy did, the gesture turning out to be slightly ridiculous when done in tandem.

"Well I'll be damned." The stunned doctor commented, sitting back down on his seat heavily, his eyes wide with surprise before his easy grin reappeared, eyes glinting with amusement.

"So...did you deserve it then?" He chuckled, his laughter increasing as he took in the man's indignantly raised brow as he pointedly eyed him from over the rim of his tea mug, laughter softening the light lines that formed his mature features

The evening wore on this way, with neither man noticing the mess halls chronometer silently tick the minutes away, with each man finding a surprising amount of comfort and familiarity in each others presence. However, they were also acutely aware that their conversation was rapidly breaching their usual semblance of feigned 'toleration' towards the other, and instead moving on into an entirely new battleground, one where neither of them were sure of the rules and the limitations...but regardless of this they both continued forward with enthusiasm...and anticipation.

It was only when the next shift was due to begin, and the late night shift began to trail in for a quick coffee and meal before taking over for the swing shift, that McCoy noticed how late the evening had become.

"Christ! 0200 already!? Time sure flies hmm?" He exclaimed with a yawn as he made to stand up, stretching his arms over his head with a groan as he eased his tired muscles.

Spock nodded, "I will accompany you." He replied as he too rose, their table quickly claimed by a hungry group of bleary-eyed officers.

They headed down the corridor to the lift together, both talking amicably as they discussed the latest lab equipment that the Doctor had requested for the bio-research department. Spock was quite aware that they were both avoiding the primary subject at hand..The nature of the feelings he was now quite sure they both shared for each other...Because as illogical and strange they might be, it made a semblance of sense.

'_We are...well suited for each other.' _He allowed himself, watching as McCoy ordered the lift to their deck, his eyes picking up the subtle way the mans muscles moved underneath his uniform...and the way the material rode up and exposed a thin stretch of his toned waist when he leaned down to adjust one of his boots... And while he was aware that prolonging the discussion of this matter was both unnecessary and illogical...He found himself rather uncertain as how to broach it. _An occurrence unusual in itself._

As they exited the lift, one of their age-old arguments resurfaced when McCoy slyly mentioned that Spock was due for his three month physical. And soon, neither of them were paying anything else much attention, both oblivious to the passing crewmen, not noticing their indulgent half-hidden smiles as they sashayed around their superiors, now once again content that everything was back the way it was meant to be. As any day that the Enterprise's Chief Medical officer and the ships First officer were not arguing likely meant something drastic...Such as the universe imploding or something equally as unfortunate. Their arguments weren't simply the stuff of urban legend, nor was it just a facet of their fast friendship…no, it was life. Their...unique relationship was part of life aboard the _Enterprise,_ nearly as connected and as integral to the ship as the warp core, or the isolinear circuits that powered the computer. It was simply the way things were, and the way things always should be.

Neither missed a beat in their accustomed fiery battle of wits, both comfortably back on familiar playing ground as they bantered back and forth. They were just rounding the last corridor's bend that led to the officers quarters when they were forced to leap nimbly out of the way as two yeomen nearly collided with them in the corridor, their arms piled high with lab equipment as they rounded the corner sharply, appearing as if from thin air.

Spock gracefully stepped out of the way, easily adjusting to the quick change of pace as the Yeomen scurried away, too distracted with balancing their respective towers of equipment to notice just who they had nearly made road-kill. But Leonard did not dodge them so easily and tripped beside him, caught off balance by the sudden change of direction.

Spock acted instinctively, his hands flashing out before he could fully think the action through, his arms wrapping around that slim waist and pulling the man into him, steadying the human with his own body, his superior strength easily adjusting to the mans weight. But what he had not expected was his own bodies reaction...As he pulled him in, the mans cheek brushed across his neck, the light touch of the mans evening stubble sliding across his skin causing the heat in his blood to rise. His body shivered as his distracted brain dimly registered the erotic nature of their position, and how the man's fingernails raked over his back as he struggled to gain purchase, his thigh brushing over his upper leg as he sought to regain his equilibrium.

The movement brought them flush together, nearly sending him reeling as well, as the fluttering mind-touch the mans contact brought nearly enveloped his shields, leaving him struggling to control himself as the mans body pressed intimately against his own. But for the moment, Leonard remained oblivious to his distress, fully occupied with regaining his balance as they stumbled again the wall, his hand coming up to steady them both on against the bulkhead.

"Where's the bloody fire!?" The incensed blue-eyed man called with an annoyed snort, turning slightly in Spock's grip to catch the retreating backs of the yeomen before they rounded the bend, the movement bring their hips flush together, the brush of cloth and skin turning tantalizing as it rubbed across his waist and thighs.

He had nearly regained himself, about to extricate himself from their precarious position pressed against each other along the bulkhead, when he turned his head; his chin ghosting across the top of the shorter mans head when it happened. Something that made everything else that had occurred in the past few seconds merely pale in comparison...Something that nearly stopped his Vulcan heart.

As his keen sense of smell inadvertently took in the Doctors scent, the smell of the man, the smell of aftershave, bourbon, and medical chemicals was overpowered and changed. He breathed it in, and in place of the mans usual smell, he found his own there. **No**...Not his...but the other! The Mirror Spock! His scent was all over him, drenched over him like a coating layer until it was all he could smell. It invaded his senses until for the briefest of moments he was nearly suffocating in it. _Saturated in it. _It was him...but not! Similar, but different. '_A challenge!' _Some distant part of his mind growled, _'His counter part, the other Spock had challenged him! Challenged his claim over Leonard!'_ No!

It was in that age-long moment that he decided quite suddenly, as the Doctor's form pressed against him, flesh on flesh, his scent rising in his mind, that he desired that the Doctor would never smell of anyone else...not even of the other ever again. _Never._ No one but him from this moment onward.

He should have acted on this years ago, the attraction between them was obvious, and more then that, it felt right..logical, correct. The man completed some strange, deep part of him that he had never before realized remained so empty... so _vacant_. And for a moment, he wondered briefly if this is what both the mirror men's points had been...as surely...surely the Mirror Spock would have known that this was not his mate? _Surely.._

"Spock? Spock...What's wrong?" Came the Doctor's concerned voice, the soft tone effectively breaking him from his thoughts. His senses took in a number of things at once, the smell that came from their mingled scents..wafting through the air in a pleasing wave of sensation, the feel of the smaller mans hand as it wound intimately around his arm, the sensation that came from the length of his body still pressing against him as he looked up at him with dark blue eyes, those fascinatingly expressive eyes that clearly reflected his worry...but also showing something else...something that simmered, heating to molten warmth in the very depths of his keen human eyes.

Standing up straight once more, Spock only shook his head, giving the Doctor a reassuring arch of his eyebrow before, regardless of the passing crewmen around them, he mirrored the Doctors touch, winding his once hand around the doctors arm, his thumb lightly moving to caress the soft blue fabric of the mans sleeve until the fabric gave way to naked skin, and the mans breath took on a deeper tilt.

It appeared that the moment they had been straining towards all evening and indeed for the last few years was finally upon them. And yet despite himself and all his Vulcan logic and humility, he found himself experiencing a strange feeling of excitement...even a tinge of anticipation, and arousal.. Sensations that were so foreign to him suddenly descended upon him all at once, bombarding his senses with fractured images and thoughts, all tactile, sensual...and explicit..

Finally he broke the heated silence between them, clearing his throat as the unaccustomedly quiet Georgian physician waited for him to speak, looking uncharacteristically nervous and tense, as if awaiting Spock's unspoken thoughts.

"Doctor...Leonard..May I speak to you...in your quarters? Alone?" He replied, his voice surprising even himself in its huskiness.

The moment stretched on for a few long seconds before the human man in his arms looked up once again. His blue eyes were heated, and his face promised a long evening ahead as he nodded wordlessly, his surprisingly large tanned hand coming up to cover his own in a rush of sensual heat and a flurry of intimate images, exciting his sensitive flesh and submerging his mind in a flood of simmering colors and heated images even as the human man led the way down the corridor, his mind echoing within his own at long last...

_**A/N: Well this story is now completed and I just wanted to thank all my reviewers! You guys were awesome!**_

_**A/N #2: My chapter title from Thriving Ivory's song: "Angels on the Moon. The band is awesome; check them out on youtube or what not!**_ _**This is one of my favourite songs from them.**_


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